Finding the Beauty Almost Anywhere

After a long week at home, I decided to join some family at our place in rural Kentucky. It’s easy to see beauty as I walk the land, up steep hills, discovering new ponds, and noticing the forsythia and dogwood trees in bloom. I revel in the daffodils planted next to the old homestead where a family lived and raised cattle during and after the Civil War. Daffodils will bloom long after they’ve been buried in the ground, and I imagine the woman who took the time to leave behind a legacy of spring.

Finding beauty or happiness in the mundane can be difficult at times, but even as I work from home and gaze at the same furniture in the same rooms, I only have to watch my cat peacefully snoozing in a patch of sunlight or open a window to feel the warmth of the late afternoon to feel happier. Content. I’ve lived in a large city in a one room apartment, but even there I commanded an impressive view of a river. I even grew my own plants back then just to have freshness with me, near me.

Now I’m outside another large city, and I still believe in magic. Of finding beauty in secret places. I like going to a certain bar every year or two, which can only be found by walking down an unobtrusive set of steps, then under a low tunnel, which opens up to a large courtyard filled with bistro tables and chairs. A fire pit sits in the center there, with brick buildings standing seven or eight stories tall on all four sides. We’ll find a table, as close to the fire as possible and slowly savor our drinks. Chardonnay for me, whisky neat for him.

We stare up at the sky laced with fairy lights strewn across the courtyard, glimpsing stars as they prick the evening sky. My husband and I listen to the acoustic guitar and talk about anything and nothing until we decide it’s time to head home. All that beauty is there, if a person knows to go down those steps. Secretive? Well, a sign does state the name of the bar, but we had to search to find the place the first time we decided to go there for after dinner drinks. Beauty is ours for the taking if we only know where to look.

I write about my new life, half in the suburbs, half in the country, because I hope to bring lapfuls of happiness or beauty to others. Why hoard this for myself? Writing about happiness is easy when I’m forced to search it out. Even on days filled with personal storms. Those daffodils remind me how short each season truly is, and someday a person will look at the flowers I planted on cold autumn days and perhaps they’ll wonder about me.

Yesterday brought warmth that coaxed the trees to tentatievly begin opening their buds, dandelions popped up and showed off their sunny color, and as evening drew on I heard the peepers down in the ponds. I suppose I should call them tree frogs, but the sound they make each spring tells me that this whimsical, wonderful season has formally arrived. I also discovered a new pond just from following their sound, though this pond seems too shallow to make it through the summer.

I’ll keep this secret pond to myself, though my husband was with me when we fought brambles to find Dry Pond. That’s my name for it, since summers here can run hot and dry. Walking the hills before the trees and bushes fill out is the best way to see the land, and it’s so fun to find something new. We have a path that used to be a road very long ago named Sulphur Springs Road, but we’ve only managed to find a few gravestones so far. I wonder if the sulphur spring was capped off to rid some farm or ranch of the smell. I may never know.

Last night my daughter and I sat on the long back porch, while I held her newborn baby, and we watched lightning branch across the sky. When the rain finally fell, the sound on the roof drowned out any hope of conversation for a bit, but it was sweet to sit and listen. No other sounds came from the house, since we three were the only ones still awake, and I think we could have talked until dawn, but we all had plans for today and sleep beckoned.

I’m back at home now, and it takes me a while to settle down and relax. I turned on the fire, and gas fireplaces are seriously underrated, since we use ours every evening in winter, but today the wind howled, so I stayed in our cabin reading and rocking that sweet baby to sleep, so her mom and daddy could take a brisk walk while our spring day turned into late winter. Spring is like that; flirting with us, bringing the scent of lilacs on the breeze only to turn sullen, moody and cold the next day.

I’ve used to live in the north where snow in April was a reality to be handled with humor, so we were delighted to discover warm days drop into the middle of winter from time to time. March offers many pleasures, but April is when everything is in full bloom and thunderstorms are enjoyed. Happiness can be found in that first day when we can finally go barefoot outside, or when I walk to the creek just down from our southern Ohio home to revel in the rush of the water after a stormy spell.

A neighbor told me in the early 1900’s our creek was used by people running the rapids after a good rain, and they’d be in canoes! I’ve seen that creek in her many moods now, as it’s our second year in the house, and no way would I take a canoe in Hunner’s Run when it’s full and fast. I’m happy enough to look down at the water any time of day in winter, because spring will fill in the trees. On hot summer days I listen to the water gurgling to herself, and I find it beguiling. This year due to the many hours of work my husband put in, we have a path looking straight down the steep hill and onto the waterfall.

I may not have an oceanfront shack somewhere, but ponds and creeks offer enough beauty. We just might have the chance to live on a major river, but I wonder if I’d worry too much. Happiness dwells in knowing when enough is plenty, and I feel like I’m there now. It’s late and time to read my books and magazines. That’s a pleasure I enjoy, and I could read until four in the morning and sometimes do, but I also enjoy reading a bit while sipping my coffee, and that’s best done in the morning. And yes, eleven o’clock is still morning! I hope you have a day filled with snippets of beauty and happiness. You only have to look for them.